TAVIA HAS PLANS
Dorothy threw her arms about Tavia, and, for a few moments the two girls
were locked in each other’s embrace. The reaction, following their lucky
escape from almost certain death, had unnerved them. Nor were the two
boys altogether free from a shaky feeling, as they carefully looked over
the car to see if it had suffered any further damage than the leaky
radiator.
“Think she’ll do?” asked Nat.
“Guess so,” replied his brother. “My, but that was as close a call as I
have ever had.”
“Me too. I guess we’d better take a breathing spell before we go on.”
The boys sat down on a grassy bank, and the girls followed their example.
They looked back over the bridge, and at the two broken planks that had
nearly proved their undoing. Through the spaces, where the flooring was
torn up, the black, swirling waters could be seen.
While the auto party are resting until they have somewhat gotten over the
fright caused by their narrow escape, let me tell something of Dorothy
and her friends. As set forth in the first book of this series, “Dorothy
Dale; A Girl of To-Day,” the girl was the daughter of Major Frank Dale, a
veteran of the Civil War. He ran a weekly newspaper, called _The Bugle_
in Dalton, a small town in New York state. Dorothy’s mother had died some
years previous. The girl had two brothers, younger than herself, named
Joe and Roger.
Dorothy took part in a temperance crusade in Dalton and had much to do in
unraveling the mystery of an unfortunate man given to drink. He left a
small fortune to his daughter, whose whereabouts were unknown, and
Dorothy succeeded in finding her. In her work the girl was much hampered
by a man named Anderson, who sought to do her bodily harm, and who was at
the bottom of the mystery concerning the daughter of the unfortunate man.
Dorothy proved herself a brave girl, and, with the help of Tavia, who
became her especial chum, did much to aid several persons in Dalton.
In the second volume, “Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School” there I related
how Dorothy and her father came upon better days. Major Dale fell heir to
quite a sum of money, and could give up the newspaper.
Dorothy was sent to Glenwood School, where Tavia accompanied her. The two
girls had many exciting times there, and Dorothy was suspected of
something for which she was not to blame, suffering much in consequence
of her desire to shield another girl. There was much fun at the school,
in spite of this, however including a queer walking match and a strange
initiation.
Dorothy and her father moved to North Birchland, the home of Mrs.
Winthrop White, Mr. Dale’s sister. Anderson, the man who had caused
Dorothy so much trouble turned up again, but was eventually sent to jail.
After the holidays Dorothy and Tavia returned to school, where we find
them at the opening of this story. They had become friends of nearly all
the students, though, as is natural, had made some enemies, as what girl
does not?
Now the party on the roadside prepared to start off again.
“I can’t forgive myself for not remembering about the dangerous state of
the bridge,” went on Tavia, when Ned and Nat had announced that the auto
was fit to continue its journey.
“Of course it wasn’t your fault,” said Dorothy.
“Yes it was,” insisted Tavia. “You wouldn’t have forgotten it, Doro,
dear!”
And, to give Dorothy credit, she would not have been so thoughtless. But
she was a different type of girl from Tavia. It was the way she had been
brought up, as much as her own character, that caused this difference.
Good breeding is not a virtue, it is a blessing: hence in considering
such a gift we admire the fortunate possessor, just as we esteem the
beauty of the cultured rose, and, naturally compare it favorably when
placed next to some coarse untrained wild flower.
So it was with our two friends, Dorothy and Tavia. Dorothy was well bred,
and could always be relied upon, for the good breeding was nicely coupled
with a kindness of heart that composed a charming character. Though
Dorothy had no mother her aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White almost filled that
place in the girl’s heart.
The White family, with whom Dorothy, her father and two brothers had gone
to live, since the advent of the legacy, consisted of Mrs. White and her
two sons, Nat and Ned. Mr. White had died some years ago, while engaged
in a scientific expedition.
Not having a daughter of her own Dorothy’s Aunt Winnie was especially
fond of her pretty niece, and, as the girl could barely remember her own
mother, she lavished her affection on her father’s sister.
Dorothy’s affection, love and devotion to her father was of a different
type from that given to any other living creature, not excepting her own
darling brothers, Joe and Roger, and Roger had almost grown up in his
sister’s arms, for he had been a tiny baby when his mother was called
away.
It was in Dalton that Dorothy had met and learned to love Tavia. The
Travers family, of whom Tavia was the most interesting member, lived not
far from the Dale homestead. Tavia had grown up with Dorothy, as her most
intimate friend and companion, and it was Dorothy’s love for Tavia that
had wrought miracles for the girl who lacked proper home training, for
her parents were of that class generally designated as improvident.
Tavia always ignored the saving rules of correct society, and, being
naturally bright, and strangely pretty was, now that she was in her
fifteenth year, in a fair way to be spoiled by those who delighted to
hear her witty nonsense, and who looked upon her frolics as entertaining
in an otherwise stupid old world.
“Well, shall we go along now?” asked Ned, as he again took his place at
the steering wheel.
“Yes, but go slow,” begged Tavia. “We can go home by a different road. We
have lots of time, before we have to be back to Glenwood School for tea.”
“Slow it is,” replied Ned, not at all sorry that he could take it easy
after the strenuous time. Dorothy had many questions to ask her
cousins—all about her father’s rheumatism—whether the electric treatment
was doing him as much good as the doctors had promised—how her brothers
were getting on at school—how strange it seemed to have Roger at
school!—and scores of other things. But she always came back to her
father or the boys—to Roger—she could scarcely imagine her baby brother
running home to Aunt Winnie with his book under his arm.
While Ned and Dorothy were thus busy with family affairs, Nat and Tavia,
seated on the rear seat, were discussing purely personal matters. Nat
told of the tour he and his brother had made from North Birchland, the
trip being undertaken with other members of a club, which was holding a
meet not far from Glenwood School. Tavia found plenty of small
interesting talk to “give and take” with Nat.
“Dorothy,” she asked suddenly, “do you think we could get off all day
to-morrow and take a run out to where the auto meet is being held? It
would be all sorts of fun and—”
“To-morrow?” echoed Dorothy. “Why you know we have our English exams. and
our geometry to make up. Besides, Mrs. Pangborn would never allow us to
go to a boys’ camp.”
“Allow us! Just as if we were in the kindergarten! Let’s make up some
excuse and go! Now, Doro, don’t look so shocked! Surely you have the
right to go out with your own cousins?”
“Tavia, don’t talk such nonsense!” exclaimed Dorothy severely. “You know
perfectly well we are under the school rules, and that we are in honor
bound not to violate them. As if any sensible girl would risk her good
standing for such an escapade!”
“What’s the ‘standing’ at Glenwood compared to the ‘sitting’ in the Fire
Bird?” asked Tavia flippantly. “Besides, just think of all the jolly
fellows we would meet; wouldn’t we, Nat?”
“There’s a great collection of wild ducks out there at the auto camp,”
Nat answered rather reluctantly, for he plainly saw that Tavia’s
surprising proposition had caused Dorothy serious annoyance.
“Well, I’ve a mind to go myself. Will you come for me, boys? I could
disappear at class hour, when all the ‘tattle-tales’ will be sure to be
busy, scheming out of their work. Then I could get back in time to have
my head tied up at lunch hour—head-ache all the morning, you know.
Simplest thing in the world.”
Even the boys scarcely smiled as Tavia unfolded a possible plan to
deceive her teachers, and to dishonor her own name. Her friends were well
accustomed to her pranks and prattle, and usually regarded her nonsense
as mere babble. But, somehow, Tavia, was “growing up,” lately, and it
seemed quite time for her to take life more seriously.
“Tavia,” spoke up Dorothy finally, “you came to Glenwood upon my aunt’s
recommendation, and under my—”
“Wing!” broke in Tavia, throwing her arms out toward the slender form of
the girl seated ahead of her in the auto.
“At any rate,” finished Dorothy, “I’m perfectly sure that my cousins will
never take part in any such nonsense.”
“Oh, Mr. Flea, you’ve bitten me, and you must die!” sang Tavia, making a
series of melo-dramatic gestures, that caused the boys to laugh and even
made Dorothy smile in forgiveness.
“Thus are my social ambitions nipped in the bud—extinguished in their
first, faint gleaming,” went on Tavia, assuming a tone of tragedy. “Well,
my fairy-godmother, Dorothy Dale Glenwood, when that day comes that I am
forced to spurn the lines of the Social Swim, and you find me beyond the
ropes, clinging helplessly to the tail-end of my former prestige, carried
out with the great, surging tide of struggling humanity, then you will
remember that I had attempted a correct debut, and it ended in a splash
of Dale indignation!”
Somehow Tavia’s nonsense had a ring of reality to-day. Perhaps it was the
narrow escape at the bridge that had tinted her pictures with such a
serious tone—she seemed preoccupied, and gave her chatter in words
contradicted by her voice and manner. It was some minutes before any one
spoke. All appeared to be enjoying the “valedictory,” and presently
Tavia, promising to “turn over a new leaf,” made a grab for a branch of a
tree the auto just then passed under, and swished the foliage she
captured until every leaf showed its silvery under-side against the deep
blue sky. She laughed at her joke.
“Of course you know,” said Ned, as he swung the car into a cross-road
that led to Glenwood, “mother expects you to come to North Birchland,
with Dorothy, this summer, Tavia. We’ll try to make you comfortable—ahem!
Nat has a brand new tandem, besides white duck duds to burn—”
“Nixy! To wear,” corrected his brother. “Mother says white ducks are
economical for man—and beast.”
“Of course you’ll come with me, Tavia,” said Dorothy, noting instantly
that her chum had not responded to the kind invitation that Nat had
delivered for his mother.
“Perhaps,” replied Tavia, vaguely.
“Are you going to spend all your time at Dalton?” continued Dorothy, much
puzzled at Tavia’s manner.
“Oh, no indeed,” answered Tavia, promptly this time, showing plainly,
that she had other plans than those connected with her home town.
“I hope you’ll come,” said Nat aside, in pardonable earnestness, for his
good times, with the “little bronze beauty” of Dalton, were cherished
among his very best memories. Tavia was certainly a jolly girl, and Nat
liked her—why should he not—like her?
“Oh, I’ll be sure to see you,” Tavia answered Nat.
Sure to see him? Yes, but she little dreamed then how very glad she would
be to see him—and what serious happenings were to take place before that
meeting.